You know, the neat thing about today is while I'm taking calls I'm checking this and cleaning out my purse and trying to figure out where all my money went (cell phone in one ear), writing poetry and CHEWING GUM. I almost broke up with my boyfriend because, as I had poetically declared, THE PASSION IS GONE.../gasp. I think I just want to screw around with the world, but I know how little the world means to me, so I'll pass on the casual swing. I know I'm not making any sense. I know I'm in trouble. I'll call my doctor at break. I don't think the pills do anything. I want to quit, but I know better. My mood chart looks like a pretty sexy rollercoaster. I called my bff yesterday and talked her head off for an hour, not letting her get a word in, then apologized for being rude and calling her and hung up. Ugh. My stats are going to suck this month. Nothing like a job where your performance is measured in numbers and statistics. I'm sickeningly sweet and bitterly sour today. I don't make any sense. Help.